


One that shaped the world

by Deliar



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Beginner Story; First Time Writing, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 08:32:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17260976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deliar/pseuds/Deliar
Summary: This is a story that tells an ancient tale. Of a child, that saw and met the Ancient One. Held his hand and walked with the spirit of a loved one long before the art on necromancy saw the light on day. What will he do on his long road? How will his actions affect the world he live in? We shall see through his eyes.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This here is my very first attempt at writing, all criticism is welcomed!

In the darkness of the old, ancient castle, the eyes of an Old One gleamed. He watched, as outside of His little, dark room, children play. Adults laughed. The winds were slow and gentle, ruffling up all of the fruit trees in this enormous garden. Life outside, so vibrant, so colorful. Oh how He wanted to join in! To taste the scents. To dance to the music of the laughter. To walk with others, oh so beautifully dressed. But...He could not. For where He stepped, life will always be gone. Where He sat, the land would stop giving it's fruits. For He was not a beloved guest of the world outside. No. Every step of His creaking, bony legs, will only bring fear and resentment. No one liked Death. Even those who called to Him.  
Stealer of Life. The Bony Wench. The Reaper. Many names, many stories, many books...and all about him. The Old One. Here, in his castle, deep within the flesh on the world. No human could see Him or the castle. Not until their time was due. But, from the window of the tallest tower, He sat. He watched. And He dreamed.  
Strike of clock. Another one's time ended. With a sigh He lifted himself from his old little chair. Time to go. To take, to lead, to help. Even if the human himself didn't wanted it, he needed it. Needed Him. The Old One's help. They all did. In time. 

Donning His cloak, He stepped out, and the instant He did, the world around changed. His steps led him to the small, rotted to the every last wooden board, house. Inside, He saw a familiar picture: a little boy, crying over a body of his mother. Poor folk always dyed so often. The child, alone, will soon follow his mother. He stepped to the bed, ready to free the soul trapped within, when...  
-No!- Shout took him by surprise. A little hand, that clutched tightly around His bony wrist, was also strange and surprising. No one was supposed to be able to touch Him like this. To see Him like this.  
-Her time has come.- His voice was soft. Calm and warm, so unlike what people said and wrote about him. He always regretted taking a life. But He had to. He had to take a soul from a body that could not sustain it anymore. Or it would turn into a monstrosity. A horrible creature, that would crave a life from another...  
-Please...i don't want her to go! Not my mother!-child pleaded. Tugged upon his sleeve. Blue eyes full of tears of desperation.- I...i would do anything! Just don't take her!  
-Her time has come.- He repeated, gently prying little hand of Himself.- But, you can help her go. So she would rest peacefully.  
-Help her...go?-Little one was confused. But not scared. His shoulders slumped. Tears spilled again, in pain of his loss. Accepting it.- Will i be able to...say goodbye? -He asked, voice trembling.  
-Of course.- Old One nodded. Child then stepped away, watching, as the bony hand gently laid upon a chest of the woman. Then lifted, taking with it a ball of white light. A soul, shining like a pearl.

Every soul was unique. With different shine, showing the truth of the one it belong to. White always was a sign of the inner beauty. Of a nature that was gentle, caring and kind. Free of sins so common to the people. Holding a soul in his hand, He looked upon it. Seeing the white, cracked in some places, but still beautiful sphere, He sigh - why was it so often people like this, that ended up in His bony fingers?  
Again, the child grabbed his hand. Looked in awe at the soul, for a moment forgetting everything else.  
-Your mother was wonderful.- Said the Old One, with His free hand gently guiding child forward.-Time to see her off. You ready? The path might be long.  
-I'm ready.-the boy quietly answered, averting his eyes from the soul and placing them upon the Old One.- What must i do?  
-Nothing much. She will be lost, like a newborn baby.- Answered He, before dropping the sphere. Light spilled forth, and a shimmering ghost formed. A woman, with a kind smile and in the old, tattered dress. Child gasped, grabbing her hand. But then he stood still, paling in mere seconds. The woman's gaze was empty, her hand cold, and she didn't even looked down upon him.  
-She does not remember.- He whispered slowly.- Does not remember me at all. Doesn't she?  
-No.- Old One shook his head.-Dead one's memories often disappear. It's easier to pass when you don't remember. Do you still wish to go?  
-Yes. Yes i do.- The answer received, Old One slowly walked forth, to the door of the house, to open a path. He gently stepped around them, letting the child to weep in silence, while the ghost simply stood, looking into nothingness.

Door opened with a creak. But outside was no longer a city street, or a garden, or even His castle. Only a path in black stone, within a shimmering rays of gold.  
-Go forth. She will slowly disappear. The world shall take her soul to be reborn.- He said gently. Boy nodded his head and hurried to the door. Leading his diseased mother by the hand.  
-Will i be able to return?- Asked the boy, stopping at the beginning of the path.  
-Yes. But you will be changed by it.- Answered the Old One.- You will forever be touched by it. By death and rebirth. Perhaps, it will even shape your destiny into something greater. Bu, we will not meet again, little one. Not until your time. That I can promise.  
-Okay. Then until we meet? And...thank you. For this.- Boy slowly bowed his head in gratitude. Before turning away and slowly going outside, step by step. Ancient One followed suit, shutting the door behind them. Soon, the figures of the two disappeared in the brightness. He slowly exhaled, letting His home take him again. To the castle, to the small room in the tallest tower.

He will later know, that the boy would grow into a man, that would shape the world around him. Death and suffering would walk hand to hand alongside with the one that held the Death hand. But that story hand found it's beginning here, in the halls of dead. In the echoing corridor where souls return to the great Wheel down below, in the largest room of his castle. Room, to which Ancient One dare not venture. For it is not for Him to know what awaited those who He had freed from their mortal shells. He will only hear when it's time for them to be again returned to Him, to His home, to the Wheel. 

But deep within, He could not help but wonder - what will the boy with the eyes that shone with tears, the boy that seen him, do after he had seen his Destiny?


	2. Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this, we shall see the beginning of the fall of the world, as humans in it knew it was before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly developing it into a semblance on a story...

After the ghost of his mother disappeared, he walked forward on his own. He did not remember for how long he heard his own steps in the blinding light. Whispers of those who's lives ended long ago filled his ears when he finally arrived to another door. A castle door. He looked upon it, not scared in the least - his fear abandoned in his meeting with the Ancient One. A little skull-like doorknob creaked when he turned it. Thru the door he walked, from light to the darkness, blinded for a second. Door behind him closed without a sound.  
When his eyes adjusted, he looked around. Room in which he stood was large, sealing so tall he could not see it in the dark. Walls were carved with pictures of a life's cycle - from a small orb of a soul finding it's new body, and to the inevitable death in the end, to repeat anew. In the center of the room, an old spindling wheel stood. Wool slowly turned into folds of a large cloak like cloth. The ends of it evaporating, like a smoke upon wind. Wheel worked by itself, no one manning it, and the wool seemed infinite.  
The boy slowly approached it, in his curiosity. He did not know what it was and what it represented. He simply wanted to touch, to understand how it worked. But, with each step, it would seemed that the Wheel only grew further away from him. He stopped, brows furrowed. But then, he saw it. Upon a woolen cloth, there were pictures. One by one, he started to recognize their meaning. Bits and pieces from his and his mothers past. He could not contain his tears when an image of her death came and pass. But then, he saw that the cloth did not stopped there. After his walk into Death domain, it continued.  
The pictures were dark. Full of promise of suffering and regret, but at the same time, of greatness and wonder. Such was a fate of the first mages, that dared to peer into darkness and see more than just fear and sorrow. That was his fate. And he watched it unfold before his eyes, clenching his fists in the rooms of Death's castle. His old life ended. He may be alive right know, but the boy that wept at his mother's deathbed was no more. Right now, he finished his own Cycle. Rebirth awaited.

As if hearing his thoughts, the Wheel suddenly grew closer. He stepped to it, to lay his hand upon it. Cold rushed thru him, making a home at his heart.  
-No more.- He whispered.-No more tears. No more fear. No more hunger and jealousy. I shall change my world, so others would not have to fear Death. I will bring salvation, even if for it i will have to pay with my own humanity. It is a promise, Ancient One. Thank you again.  
Child no more, he released the Wheel and turned. Shadows clung to him, as a knew clothing upon his meager body. With a path clear in his head, he stepped to the door. This time around, it opened into a dark alley of another human city. Stepping thru it, he looked around. Dingy street, with all the scents that came with it. Human scream sounded upon his right. Cruel laughter followed. He was Home. A strange smile graced pale boy's lips. He moved forward, shivering with a strange anticipation...

Ten years have passed. City of Awarres slept, cowered in silence. Not knowing of a strange creature, lurking in it backstreets. Plotting. Learning. Building it's powers in the softly rolling fogs of the seaside town. Wealth from the sea trade made people here blind to the pains and sorrows of the poor. To their cries of anguish, as their children started to die in their sleep, with a strange smiles upon their faces. Small shadows begun walking the back alleys, scaring those who were unfortunate to see them.

Duke Arthur Claros of the Claros Family shook under his cape, but pushed forward, deeper into the underbelly of his hometown. Clergy of the Grand Temple asked him to look into strange deaths among the poor. They were swamped in the amount of people that begged them for a burial on the free church grounds, and all of the bodies were that of the children. It unsettled all of the priests deeply, and the fear of the sickness spread among them. Duke belonged to the family of renown doctors, and himself practiced this craft for many years.  
But even he was baffled. No sign of a known disease had shown itself to him in the corpses. No coughing or sneezing was heard from the children prior to the deaths. No pain described. Nothing. He was at loss, completely and utterly. What could have been the cause?!

Lost in his thoughts, he did not notice a new shadow following him. Tall and thin, a young man shadow followed the light of his lantern. When the Duke turned to another alley, he felt it. A deep seated fear gripped his heart and squeezed it hard. He stopped, afraid to turn around. His hand shook, as he lifted the lantern higher. There, upon the wall to his left, he saw it. A long shadow, that seemingly reached towards him. No. To his lantern. His throat constricted - he wanted to shout so desperately! But he could not. Not then, and not even when shadow's hand touched the light and..it gave out. Darkness enveloped him. Together with a feeling of a frigid cold.  
Then, he heard it. Child's laughter. It grew closer and closer, but it was hollow. No happiness or fun was in it. Empty, echoing, chilling to the bone. Suddenly, many pairs of eyes gleamed at from the dark. Not knowing why, he started to count them.  
-...sixteen...-He whispered, shaking.- Sixteen...just as much as all those children...dead in this month!  
Realization dawned. And finally, when the first pale face stepped out from the alley, it's lips red and skin white, he screamed. And screamed, And screamed, And screamed, all the way back to the light of the main street.

Later, he was found mad and muttering, clutching at his lantern, at the steps of the Grand Temple. No one understood a word, and his eyes were wild, pupils lost in the sea of color. No one could have knew, that this man met with what will later be known as Scourge of the Man. Or, to be precise, his very first Children...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying for a scary story style...hope it's not too boring people!)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked the prologue! It's vague on purpose, i swear!)


End file.
